A Night of Gaiety Read online

So that was how men behaved in London! Now she understood not only what Lord Mundesley was suggesting to her, but what had happened to Rosie.

  How could she have known, how could she have guessed, that Rosie had been the Marquis’s mistress and he had thrown her out “bag and baggage” not because they were engaged to be married but because she was a woman for whom he had no further use.

  It was so shocking, so degrading, and Davita had never imagined she would come in contact with anything so evil.

  She had vaguely known that there were women who in the words of the Bible “committed adultery” and to whom nobody respectable would speak.

  There had been a girl in the village who had run away with a Piper who was married and could not marry her.

  Davita had heard the servants talking about her, and when she asked her mother what had happened, she had explained gently and carefully that the girl had lost the love and respect of her parents and of everybody else.

  “Why should she do such a thing, Mama?” Davita had asked.

  “Because she was tempted,” her mother had replied.

  “I do not understand,” Davita had protested, “why she should want to be with a man who cannot marry her.”

  “These things happen, dearest,” her mother had said, “but I do not want you to think about it now. It is something which is best forgotten.”

  But because the servants had not forgotten and had gone on talking about Jeannie, it had been impossible for Davita not to be curious.

  “I always knew she would come to no good,” she could hear them saying to one another. “She’ll rue the day she trusted a man who’d throw her aside when he’s had all he wants of her.”

  Davita wondered what he had wanted, but she knew if she asked questions nobody would explain.

  She heard two years later that Jeannie had had a baby and, having been deserted by the Piper, had drowned herself and the child.

  It was then that she had exclaimed to her mother:

  “How could such a terrible thing happen? And why did Jeannie not come home?”

  “If she had, they would not have let her in,” her mother had replied.

  “So you mean that her father and mother would have let her starve?”

  “It is something I would never be able to do myself,” her mother had admitted, “but I know Jeannie’s parents. They are respected members of the Kirk and very strait-laced. They would never forgive their daughter for bringing disgrace upon them.”

  Davita tried to understand. At the same time, because Jeannie had been young and attractive, she felt it was a terrible thing that she should kill herself and her baby and that no-one should be sorry that she had done so.

  Now she thought with a kind of terror that that might happen to her.

  How could a gentleman like Lord Mundesley suggest that he should give her a house in Chelsea, and that while he had a wife somewhere else, she should live with him and be his mistress?

  It was a degradation she had never imagined for one moment would ever be suggested to her, and she thought how shocked her father and mother would be if they knew.

  She was sure that her father, if he were alive, would be prepared to knock Lord Mundesley down because he had insulted her.

  Then suddenly she stiffened as she thought of the way Lord Mundesley had spoken to Violet and how he had kissed her good-night.

  Could it be possible that Violet was already his mistress?

  Then she told herself with a feeling of relief that the answer to that idea was “no.”

  If she was, Violet would not be living here but in Chelsea, and although he might have suggested it to her, Violet had obviously refused.

  The feeling of relief was like a warm wave sweeping through Davita and clearing away the feeling of shock.

  Violet was a good girl. Violet would not, Davita was sure, contemplate anything so wicked.

  Then why had Lord Mundesley suggested such a thing to her after knowing her for such a short time?

  She could not understand, except perhaps that Violet, intending to be kind, had painted such a bleak picture of her future with no money and no job that he had made the suggestion because in his own way he wanted to be kind.

  Davita could still feel his arms pulling her against him, and she had the feeling that if she had not struggled, he might have kissed her.

  “I hate him!” she said aloud, and knew there was something unpleasant about him that was difficult to put into words.

  ‘I shall never see him again!’ she thought.

  Then she knew that she would have to do so if she went to the party tonight.

  “I will stay here. I will stay at home,” she decided firmly, and got up from the bed to pick up her bonnet and put it tidily away.

  Then as she did so she realised that if she told Violet she was not going to the party with her as they had planned, she would have to give a very good explanation as to why she had changed her mind.

  What could she say that would not upset Violet?

  It was obvious, although she had not said so, that Violet thought Lord Mundesley was her admirer and in a way her property.

  Looking back, Davita could remember dozens of little words and gestures that proclaimed all too clearly that Lord Mundesley had devoted himself to Violet.

  Now, disloyal and unfaithful—although that was hardly the right description considering that he was married—he was ready to transfer his affections to her.

  ‘I cannot tell Violet that!’ Davita thought in a panic. ‘It would upset her, and she has been so kind to me.’

  She looked round the tiny room, feeling as if the walls whirled round her as she tried to think what she could say and what she could do.

  Then she knew, almost as if somebody was saying it aloud, that it would be extremely unkind if she let Violet know what had happened.

  ‘Sooner or later she will find out for herself what he is like,’ Davita thought, ‘but I must not be the person to tell her so.’

  She sat down on her bed and tried to think clearly and she sent up a prayer to her mother for help.

  “I am in a mess, Mama,” she said. “Tell me what I should do. Tell me how I can avoid Lord Mundesley without hurting Violet, who has been kind ... very, very kind.”

  She almost expected to hear her mother answer, and gradually a plan came to her mind.

  She would have to go to the party tonight rather than make Violet suspicious, and she was quite sure that Lord Mundesley would not tell Violet what he had suggested.

  Tomorrow, first thing, she would go to a Domestic Bureau and take a job, any job that she was offered.

  Davita gave a little sigh.

  “I am sure that is the right thing to do,” she told herself.

  It was reassuring to think that if her first job was an unpleasant one, she had enough money to support herself while she waited for another.

  The idea that she would be alone and frightened came insidiously into her mind, but she swept it aside.

  The only thing that mattered now was to get away from Lord Mundesley.

  “Once I am gone, he will think only of Violet again, and if I do not give her my address there will be no chance of his trying to get in touch with me,” Davita decided.

  To her surprise, she found herself wishing she could ask the Marquis to advise her. She had thought of him during the night and how handsome he had looked despite his cynical and contemptuous air.

  He had told her to go back to Scotland, and he had been right: that was what she ought to do.

  Perhaps he had guessed that Lord Mundesley or some other man like him would make such horrible suggestions to her simply because she was with the Gaiety Girls.

  “He was right, absolutely right. I should not be here,” Davita said to herself.

  Because she was upset and still shocked by what had happened, when a little later she went to do up Violet’s gown before they went to the Theatre, the latter exclaimed:

  “You look very pale, Davita!
It must be your gown, but I should have thought white would have suited you with your red hair.”

  “I think I am just a little tired,” Davita replied. “Is this gown all right?”

  Violet turned to look at her.

  “It’s really rather pretty in its own way.”

  Davita herself had always thought it very lovely.

  It was made of Brussels lace and her mother had always told her that because it had come from the best shop in Edinburgh, it had caused a sensation at home in the Western Isles when she had worn it to marry Sir Iain Kilcraig.

  “They had never seen anything like it, Davita,” she had said with a smile, “and neither had I. My Godmother gave it to me because she was so pleased I was marrying such a distinguished man, and when it arrived a week before my marriage, people came from all over the island to look at it!”

  “You must have looked lovely on your wedding-day, Mama,” Davita had remarked.

  “If I looked lovely it was not because of the gown,” her mother had answered, “but because I was so happy. I loved your father, Davita, and he was and is the most handsome man I have ever known.”

  The lace had a fragility about it, and to Davita it had an almost fairy-like loveliness that made her feel like a Princess in a fairy-story.

  It was the first time she had had the opportunity of wearing it, and she felt, because it revealed her neck and white shoulders, that for the first time she was really grown-up.

  “I must behave as though I am,” she admonished herself, “and not allow Lord Mundesley to upset me!”

  It was an easy thing to say, but when after the Show was over she followed Violet downstairs to where he was waiting at the stage-door to escort them to his carriage, she felt a quiver of fear inside her and knew it was impossible to look at him.

  Lord Mundesley, however, was completely at his ease.

  “Violet, you look more adorable than usual!” he said as he kissed her hand.

  “Why didn’t you come round at the interval, Bertie?” Violet asked.

  “I had some friends to see,” Lord Mundesley replied, “and although they wanted to meet you, I wished to keep you to myself.”

  The way he spoke made Davita think he was deliberately warning her that he was ready to reassure Violet that he belonged to her if she had by any chance tried to make trouble.

  She longed to tell him that she would not lower herself to do anything so unkind or spiteful, but she knew that the only dignified way to behave was to ignore what had happened, and she therefore said nothing.

  As they drove away from the Theatre, Lord Mundesley made no effort to sit between them as he had the night before, but sat on the seat opposite.

  Nevertheless, Davita, without even looking in his direction, was aware that his eyes were on her face and she turned deliberately to look out the window.

  “Everything’s arranged, is it?” Violet asked.

  “You can be sure of that,” Lord Mundesley replied, “and Boris thought it a huge joke, as I thought he would.”

  “You are sure that ‘You-Know-Who’ will turn up?”

  “I am sure of it. He intends to discuss the sale of a couple of horses with Boris, and they are bound to have a somewhat spirited argument over the price.”

  Violet gave a little laugh.

  “Horses are always more irresistible than a woman!”

  “But not where I am concerned,” Lord Mundesley said with a caressing note in his voice. “You look very beautiful tonight. That gown certainly becomes you.”

  “I’m glad you like it,” Violet replied. “I bought it especially for you.”

  ‘And he paid for it!’ Davita added in her mind, but told herself it was vulgar even to think such things.

  She wished she were not going to the party. She wished almost wildly that she were back in Scotland.

  Then she told herself with a sudden pride that she would not let Lord Mundesley’s infamy defeat or depress her.

  This was an adventure, and only if things became too unbearable would she surrender to the inevitable and return to Scotland.

  “Davita’s wearing her mother’s wedding-dress,” Violet said unexpectedly.

  Lord Mundesley gave a short laugh.

  “If there is one thing I love about you, Violet, it is your sense of humour.”

  “But it’s true!” Violet objected.

  Lord Mundesley laughed again and Davita thought he was laughing at her mother, and hated him more violently than she had before.

  She wished there was a way in which she could warn Violet that he was a man to be avoided.

  “Here we are!” Violet exclaimed a little while later. “I can’t understand how the Prince when he comes to London always manages to rent the largest and finest houses.”

  “He managed it because he can afford it,” Lord Mundesley answered. “He is paying an enormous rent for this house which he has taken over for the Season. In fact, the Duke said the offer was so astronomical that he could not afford to refuse.”

  “Well, quite frankly,” Violet said, “I’m looking forward to seeing the inside of Uxminster House. All the Duke would be likely to offer me is the outside of his front door!”

  Lord Mundesley laughed.

  “That is true enough. Uxminster is a dull old fossil. No Gaiety Girls for him!”

  “Well, thank goodness the Prince is different!” Violet said as the carriage-door was opened and she stepped out into a blaze of light.

  Uxminster House was certainly very impressive as they walked up a red-carpeted staircase to the First Floor, and Davita was glad that she had come after all.

  This was the sort of house she had always hoped she would see in London, with family portraits and tapestries on the walls, and huge crystal chandeliers sparkling in the light of hundreds of candles.

  To her surprise, they were not shown by a very smartly liveried servant into a room on the First Floor which she could see through an open door was large and extremely impressive.

  Instead, they were taken along a corridor and shown at the end of it into a smaller room where they were greeted by their host.

  The Prince was a middle-aged Russian, distinguished, bearded, with twinkling dark eyes, and as Davita looked about her it seemed to her almost as if she were back in Romano’s again.

  The room was massed with flowers, but far more glamorous than any blossoms were the guests, some of whom she recognised as having come from the Gaiety as she and Violet had.

  Lottie Collins was there and several other Leading Actresses, all flashing with jewels and wearing gowns that were as spectacular as those that they had worn on stage.

  As the evening wore on, Leading Ladies from other Theatres, many of whose names Davita recognised, although not their faces, arrived for the party.

  Champagne was being handed round, and about twenty minutes after they had arrived they went into a Dining-Room which led off the room in which they had been received and which was arranged like a Restaurant.

  There was a table in the centre, at which the Prince sat with a dozen of his guests, and in addition there were small tables for six, four, and even two. The only light was from the candles on the tables, which gave the room an air of mystery.

  At the same time, there was an atmosphere of irrepressible gaiety enhanced by the music.

  There were two Bands: one played dreamy, romantic waltzes; the other, a Gypsy Orchestra, wild, passionate, exciting, made the heart beat to the clash of the cymbals and the throb of the drums.

  To Davita it was very exciting, and as the Prince introduced her not to one young man but to half-a-dozen, she thought what an excellent host he was, and how because she was never without a partner it was easy to keep away from Lord Mundesley.

  In fact, he made no effort to talk to her either intimately or otherwise, but devoted himself to Violet, and when the dancing started he apparently had no wish to leave her for anybody else.

  Supper was over before the curtains at one end of the Dini
ng-Room were drawn back to reveal a Dance-Floor.

  Those who wished to do so could continue to sit at their tables, drinking or eating, but still could get up and dance as it suited them.

  To Davita’s delight, the men to whom the Prince had introduced her were only too eager to ask her to dance with them.

  Up until now, although she had had dancing-lessons occasionally in Edinburgh, because her mother had said it was essential that she should be a good dancer, she had danced at home, only with her father.

  Now for the first time she was able to dance with not one young man but a dozen, and she found it an exhilarating experience.

  “You are as light as thistledown,” one told her as she was swept round the room to the strains of a Strauss waltz.

  It was so thrilling that she forgot her fears about Lord Mundesley, and it was only when she was being whirled round the floor by a tall young man who she learnt was in the Brigade of Guards that she saw the Marquis seated at a table beside her host.

  She had not seen him arrive, and she was quite certain he had not been there at supper.

  But now, looking as usual cynical and contemptuous of everybody round him, he was beside the Prince, a glass of brandy in one hand and a cigar in the other.

  As she looked at him she found that he was looking at her, and she felt that in some way he had mesmerised her into being aware of him.

  She almost missed a step, then heard her partner say:

  “You have not given me an answer to my question.”

  “I am sorry,” Davita replied. “What was it you asked me?”

  “Who are you thinking about?” her partner enquired. “Whoever it is, it is not me.”

  “I am sorry,” Davita said again.

  He smiled at her, saying:

  “I forgive you. How could I do anything else when you look so lovely?”

  Davita did not feel either shy or embarrassed as she had when Lord Mundesley had paid her compliments.

  Then once again she was glancing across the room at the Marquis and wondering why Violet and Lord Mundesley had been so keen for him to come to the party when they hated him so much.

  “This is my night of gaiety,” she told herself.

  About two hours later, as she waltzed round the room Davita realised she had not seen Violet and Lord Mundesley for some time.